


i'm not the hunter [and you're working your way towards saying it]

by governessattending (syballineInferno)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/F, F/M, Jaegers, M/M, Romance, cutes, justice cabal is a jaeger, noire/brady; the brotp to rule them all, reunited exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syballineInferno/pseuds/governessattending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Brady turns on the tv in the Hospital Wing in three years, he sees Owain in a drive suit. He slams the power off.</p><p>//the Pacific Rim/FE13 au to rule them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not the hunter [and you're working your way towards saying it]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jackjerripher.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jackjerripher.tumblr.com).



> So, it started with me mentioning that Justice Cabal was totally drift compatible. Then Owain goes, Brady/Noire piloting an assisting jaeger. Over two weeks and almost 3000 words later, I give you this. 
> 
> This is unbetaed, I'm not even sure if its any good, but I cannot look at this anymore. Here you go, Jack!!! For being a great friend and Justice Cabal buddy.
> 
> Beautiful and yet probably unfitting title to elisabethhewer. I thought it was fitting, but that's just me.

Med Tent was never supposed to be used for fighting.

The assist jaeger was back up, was meant to pull escape pods out of the water and finish off kaiju. It was smaller, more compact, its pilots doctors and not soldiers. Med Tent was an experiment, to see if it would be any use at all.

The project was announced in the eighth year of the Kaiju War, as it had been nicknamed in some circles, but Brady had known about it months before, heard the whispers in the Med Wing on the emptier days. He talks about it with Noire, low toned as he glances at his Ma across the room, her springy curls pulled back. When he was a kid he'd liked to play with them, idly, until she stopped him. The thought hits him with a wave of nostalgia; it's funny, he thinks, the little things you remember. His father's broad shoulders as he swung Brady around, his mother's perfume and her bark as she told Vaike to  _put him down right now or so help me_.

Brady and Noire listen as they announced the making of the assist jaeger [AJ1 until it received pilots], the girl's hands folding and unfolding on her lap. She'd always been deathly pale, part of it easily attributed to her parents but the rest all anemic. She's keeping her face passive but Brady doesn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking; they knew each other far too easily to be fooled. 

"They'd never accept us," Brady says, before she says anything.

"We could still try," she says.

"It's not like either o' us are exactly  _pilot_ material, Noire-"

" **What are you trying to say about me, simpleton?** "

Brady twitches as something shifts in her, almost flinches but not quite. He'd known her so long, had become so used to Noire; he'd met Noire in college, when her hair was long, platinum blonde braided back. It'd taken some time, but they'd fallen so easily into sync, into an easy familiarity. He almost never flinched because of her, anymore. Almost.

[Almost was Brady's least favorite word. Almost strong, almost useful, almost unafraid almostalmost _almost._ ]

"We can try," Brady amends. "But I wouldn't be gettin' your hopes up."

* * *

Against all odds, they get accepted to pilot AJ1. 

They're easily the most drift compatible pair applying, but he assumed with Noire's anemia -

Desperate times, he supposes. Desperate times. 

She looks so compact in the drive suit; the clothes she always wore were baggy or sterile or both, and he'd never truly realized how  _small_ she is, 5'5 to his 6'3. 

"Are you ready?" Robin's voice is smooth and calm, the famed LOCCENT chief keeping his emotions close to his chest. They say he was brighter, once upon a time, more emotional, but this war took a lot of his friends; Brady had heard that his cousin Robyn and her copilot were injured at the Manila Shatterdome last month. 

"Yeah," he says, as Noire affirms.

"Don't chase the rabbit," Robin warns. "The first drift is always the hardest."

Nothing in the world can prepare you for the drift.

Noire's memories flashed in front of him, and he tried not to follow them. Her mother, dark and terrifying; her father, a blonde saint of a man, braiding her hair and bandaging her cuts. Bullied in high school. A girl, with twin tails. Stubborn. They fell in love. They broke up for college. She disappeared. _Severa_ ; he knows the name and isn't sure how, or who they are. Meeting Brady. Training - _Severa_ , _Severa_ , _Severa_. Noire thinks about the name a lot, a perfume she's associated with it and a journal with letters starting with _Dear Severa_. Noire's memories ran past him, wrapped around him, and he tried not to follow.

He sees his own memories flicker by; his mother teaching him violin and his father's laugh, boisterous as ever. He sees Owain and Aunt Lissa. He sees himself holding Owain's hand as they walk across the street, a lopsided grin as Brady says, "Safety first." to excuse that he wanted to touch Owain, touch his face and lips and mouth. He's ten and holding Owain's hand. Thirteen and watching Owain fence. Fourteen and hopelessly in love. Fifteen, mouth on Owain's in a park after sunset, fingers in hair as they kissed on the swings. Sixteen. Seventeen, his first time, and he tries not to blush as that flickers past him. Eighteen, leaving for college and breaking up with Owain. Meeting Noire. The Kaiju attack. Training. Working. The hospital wing. Almost.

As soon as it stops, they're both breathing hard.

"That was good," Robin says. "That was  _really_ good." 

Brady isn't sure if its idle flattery or not, but he appreciates it all the same.

* * *

The first time Brady turns on the tv in the Hospital Wing in three years, he sees Owain in a drive suit. He slams the power off.

[He'd seen Lissa around the Hospital Wing, seen her bustling about, but was always to afraid to talk to her, always afraid to ask about Owain....]

It's been eight years since he's seen Owain, since he last caught the full onslaught of his dimpled smile and ridiculous storytelling, felt his calloused hands trace his wrist, but he still remembers. He doubts he'll ever forget.

He sees Owain across the cafeteria, a pigtailed girl talking animatedly to him, her twin tails bouncing as Owain made ridiculous gestures to match. Brady can't help but  _stare._

[Brady looks at Owain like a man dying of thirst looks at water, like a man that hadn't seen the light of day in years looked at the sky. Owain is older now, it's been eight years but despite the new scars and muscle and an inch in height, Brady still remembers, could draw the way his hair fell into his eyes, the freckles that dotted his face and arms and torso, knew every inch of him like he was Brady himself. He couldn't look away.]  
  
Owain turned towards him, and Brady bolted.

* * *

 The Anchorage Shatterdome wasn't the largest Shatterdome; Brady should've known it was inevitable that he'd have to speak to Owain at some point. 

Lissa had just left the Med Wing for the evening when Owain dropped by. 

"Hallowed and glorious Mother!" Owain called, getting a few dirty looks. The wing was essentially empty; no one was in it, leaving only a few doctors and nurses scurrying about. Brady looked up as well, as if by instinct. "It s I, your so-"

Owain and Brady's eyes met.

"Brady?" Owain breathed, barely an exhale but it carried as the world seemed to stop. Owain says Brady's name like a prayer, like something sacred, like he's looking at a miracle and is convinced it isn't real.  _"Brady."_

Brady had thought about this moment, played it out in his head and dreamt of it. It had never been like this, though. He'd never found himself out of breath, in these dreams. He wasn't holding a box that Noire really needed. "Owain?"

Brady soaked in the new appearance, noticing the new scars and muscle, the exact same freckles dotting his face but there are more on his shoulders that Brady can just  _barely_  see and he wants to know Owain's body again but the frequency of drift pairs being married or romantically inclined is 1/3 of the time- 

"Owain," Brady repeated, unsure of what else to say, half afraid that he "I-"

"Brady! Do you have the stuff or not? It needs to get put away before I crash for the day and I'm not staying late because you decided to get in a stare down with some guy!" Noire poked her head out the door, ruining the moment and jarring them both back to reality.

"Y-yeah, I got it, don't be worryin'," Brady turned away from Owain, and all but ran past Noire.

* * *

 "Who was that?" Noire says as she walked alongside him to the Cafeteria, him slowing his long strides to met her pace with a natural ease; he doesn't even think about it. He used to slow for her before they started drifting, but now he does it without thinking. "The other night, in the Med Wing. You called him Owain." 

Brady doesn't say anything, but his cheeks go red. 

"Is he the same guy - the guy you used to date?"

"We broke up for college," Brady says, but its an admission of guilt all the same. "I hadn't seen 'im in years."

"Brady, why would you do that?" Noire demands. "That's so-"

"Isn't that what you did?" Brady asks back, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gripping at the fabric. "With you and that girl?"

Noire stops, and without thinking, Brady does too.

"That's not the point," Noire says, but she's quiet for the rest of the walk there. 

It's only Brady's luck that the only available spots at moment are at Owain and his pigtailed companion's table. Noire grabs his hand and pulls him alongside her. 

"Y-you two are the new jaeger pilots, right? The ones who transferred from the LA base?" Noire says, the stutter in her voice that so frequently happened when she wasn't alone with the person who'd literally been  _in her head_ reappearing with a flourish. "I'm Noire, this is Brady," she gestured at Brady, but the way she glanced at Owain and her tone implied an,  _as you know._ "We're the pilots of Med Tent, the assist jaeger? C-can we sit here?" 

"Yeah, sure!" Pigtails says, her ginger curls bouncing. "I'm Cynthia. The guy sitting next to me is Owain, my sidekick and partner in crime."

Owain seemed utterly lost for words.

"Huh," Pigta- Cynthia, he corrects. Cynthia says. "He'd usually argue with being called my sidekick." 

"I'm not your sidekick," Owain says on cue, like he'd been pulled from a dream. "I was just caught by the most glorious visages of those who decided to accompany us on this incredible day! Surely, you can't blame me for being caught up in their light - its like a pair of angels came to visit us, the way the light makes their golden hair look - and, of course, they're the Assist Jaeger's pilots! You can't blame me for wanting to stare at them for a moment."

"You poemed," Noire giggled, sliding down in front of them. "You're quite the poet, aren't you?"

That's how the conversation starts, although Brady doesn't say much, just listens. They talk, Owain charming Noire in the easy way he does everyone, and Brady tries not to fall back in love. [It's a futile attempt, trying not to fall back in love with Owain, when he never actually stopped.] Cynthia keeps laughing and contributing, but she keeps looking at Brady and furrowing her brow as if confused.

They leave before Noire and Brady, and Brady pretends that he isn't listening to them leave, trying to deduce if they are romantic or not.

"Is that the Brady from your memories? The one that broke up with you for college?"

"Well," Owain says.

"Owain Elizabeth -" 

"My middle name is still not Elizabeth, Cynthia!" is the last thing he overhears, and he tries not to laugh or cry.

* * *

Owain catches him as he's leaving the Med Wing. 

He had been talking to Lissa as she prepped to leave and go back to where she was living on base, with her pilot husband. He knew Lon'qu moderately well; the man was both his mother's best friends' husband and Brady's fathers' copilot in their jaeger, but he didn't know him that well. Still, he'd always found it funny that his dad and his uncle Lon'qu of all people were drift compatible. 

Brady assumes that Owain is too involved in their conversation to talk to him. 

He knows that as soon as Owain talks to him, as soon as he smiles and his whole freckled, dimpled face lights up, as soon as his thumb traces Brady's wrist, as soon as Owain's lips meet Brady's - well, then he's fucked, well and truly. 

"Brady!" Owain calls after him, walks quickly to catch up. Brady took the late shift, the halls were dark and empty, and Owain was next to him.  "I- er. I have been awaiting the opportunity to reacquaint myself with you! It's been a long time and - err, well. I know we didn't end on- I know we aren't - "

Owain doesn't fumble for words very often. 

Owain's close, so close, Brady can smell the issued soap on him and see every detail, see newer scars -

Brady isn't good with words, but as Owain stumbles for the proper poetry to bestow and they turn the corner to where Brady's room is, he acts impulsively. 

Its a sudden thing, it stops Owain in his tracks.  Owain stops trying to speak. 

Brady kisses him. 

Owain is exactly the same as he remembers and is exactly different. He still kisses like he's trying to win but he's two inches taller, he still grips Brady's hair the same way, but the arm slung around his waist is thicker, corded muscle and skin pressed against him. 

Brady fumbles with the door, and pulls him in. 

The night goes away to a myriad of things, Brady tugging off Owain's shirt and breathed words, a frenzy of things, as if they don't memorize each other again, if they aren't touching, the mirage will disappear and they'll be left alone.

"Cynthia," Brady struggles with the name as Owain's fingers press into his hips, Owain's mouth on his neck.

"What about her?"

"Aren't you two-"

"No. Noire?"

"Nah," he says. "She's inta the ladies."

"Anyone - anyone else?"

"No," Brady admits. "Not since us. You?"

"No," Owain says. "Not since _you."_

They don't say much else, the rest of the night. 

* * *

 Med Tent was a support jaeger. 

When Justice Cabal is sent out to fight a Category III Kaiju, Noire and Brady are woken as well. 

Noire flushes as Brady's memories go past them, as the one from the other night rushes by them. He knew she must've suspected, with the way they'd been as of late, but she blushes anyway. 

Med Tent wasn't supposed to be front and foremost, was defense and assistance, was back up. 

Justice Cabal engages it, rips out a blade instead of anything fancy. He thinks about watching Owain fence so fluidly when they were younger, just kids playing at soldiers, and its with a shocking ease that he recognizes the tricks. Everything Justice Cabal does is showy and elegant, like they're performers and the Kaiju is just another dancer on the stage, an elegant fake spar for an awaiting audience. 

[He thinks he sees a news helicopter hovering overhead, and he's not really surprised.]

The Kaiju seems to be done with being showy as it knocks Justice Cabal away. The dance seems to get rougher, harsher, Cynthia and Owain pulling out all the big guns and - 

The Kaiju knocks them away hard, pushing them into the ocean, and for the longest moment they don't get up.

Brady's vision tints red as soon as they go dead, and suddenly he's racing towards the kaiju as fast as he can. 

 _Blood and thunder,_ Noire thinks as a sword ejects from their robots' hand. 

"Yeah," he replied, praying silently for them to get back up. He revels in the non uselessness, despite a panicking fear trying to consume him. He'd been useless and afraid all his life. "Blood and thunder."

[Justice Cabal gets back up after Med Tent gets a few swings in. But Brady doesn't start to breathe until he's out of his drive suit.]

* * *

 "What were you  _doing,"_ Owain demands, after the four pilots are out of their drive suits, staring at each other. Noire is polite enough to make her way towards leaving, pulling Cynthia with her, but Cynthia stops dead as the door opens. Noire shoves past some guy in sunglasses that stops as he sees Cynthia. 

[He thinks he seen him around, and it takes Brady a minute to recognize him as one of the pilots of Minerva Flight, with his mother.]

"Cynthia, I-"

"We should talk, Gerome," she says, then brushes past them and closes the door, leaving Owain and Brady alone.

"What was  _I_ doin'?" Brady barks back, hackles raised. "You're the one who - you were-"

There are tears welling up in Brady's eyes, and he hates them, he hates them he hates being a weak  _crybaby._

"Brady? Brady, I'm sorry," Owain steps closer and he's  _so close_ , inches too far and inches too close. "Yeah, okay, I did some stupid things out there and you charged the kaiju out of despair - Brady?" 

There are tears dripping down Brady's cheek, big fat ones and he's _angry_ at them. 

Owain kisses him. "We're fine," he mumbles against Brady's mouth. He thinks of the first time he gets picked on because of his sexuality, the way Owain rubbed his neck as they kissed and promised he'd be alright. It's funny, he thinks, the little things you remember. "We're going to be fine." 

Owain kisses him, familiar, and Brady thinks that maybe he believes him. Maybe.


End file.
